Almost Having
Kit Brennan, playwright-in-residence at Centaur
last year, has crafted in Having a compelling story that circles around a
splintered family and debased values. Her characters struggle to find their way
in a time, as Brennan notes: "..where the right of might is admired, where having
is more important than living. "
Right away, we see the characters in motion - the home life is fragmented, and their
lives are spiralling out of control. A divorced father struggles to avoid bankruptcy.
To save money, he has moved the office into the home he shares with his daughter.
The epileptic daughter has rejected the medication that controls her seizures but
deadens her emotionally, and now faces ever more frequent attacks.
The stresses piled on the characters emerge as obsession over work and money, the
fear of increasing illness, or in the escape of a seizured dream. Swirling around
the building tension is the Highwayman: a ghostly figure in an old poem who appears
as a tempting and seductive apparition. The anchor in Having, though, is grandmother
Olivia (played by Carolyn Hetherington), whose visits prick the conscience and stir
up the desire for change.
Hopes for the audience fade early, however, as the play rambles and the characters
lose focus. Director Rona Waddington is unable to get off the page the sense of thwarted
desire and tension in Brennan's script. The production has a noisy and clanky, disjointed
feel. It's heavy with artificiality; much of the cast seem to shout their lines,
and the sound blares and jolts out of proportion to the action on stage.
Emerging from the din, Carolyn Hetherington is graceful and effortless in the role
of the wise grandmother, and she wraps around her like a shawl this character fighting
age, sorrow, and illness. Even the rest of the cast seems to bask in the glow of
her performance: in their shared scenes, Hetherington momentarily pulls them away
from the confused direction, and a hint of what might have been a powerful production
is revealed.
Having plays at the Centaur Theatre until
March 28
- Neil Brouillet